


Penelope's flight

by Ler



Series: Dance me to the End (of Love) [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, ballerina!Marianne, bartender!Bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ler/pseuds/Ler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Kenneth Boggart watched Marianne Fairfield dance, and one time he danced with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penelope's flight

_{Go-Go}_

The first time Kenneth Boggart sees her dance, she is in his fucking bar, drunk on his fucking whiskey, and her heels scratch the polish off his fucking 50-year-old mahogany table.

And he lets her.

Because she puts on Stevie Nicks, and her black faux-leather flare skirt twirls around the milky white of her thighs, right above the inappropriately long socks, and the way her mouth parts and her eyes close, fringe falling over her face

Because her smile is wicked, yes,  _wicked_ , when the song ends and he wants her to get off the damn table, and she says  _catch me_

Because when he catches her, or she latches onto him – because she is drunk and he doesn’t know where is an appropriate place to touch a woman as scantily clad as her also he just met her – she mumbles  _you’re sweet_  and tastes of misery and whiskey and betrayal and grief and very salty tears.

 

_{Contemporary ballet improv}_

The second time Bog catches her dancing, there is music pouring out of his dying receiver, but it rolls like a river, and her feet – bruised and ruined, why - draw pictures on the floor of his wasteland-like living room

Her legs are thin, and painful to look at in their tense curve, determination bordering on self-mutilation

Her arms twist, and wrap, and turn, and skim over the edge of a grey worn t-shirt she borrowed from him, because her clothes were covered in the afterthought of the whiskey from the day before

And for a moment she falls, body hitting the floor, and he makes a step forward to help her, but she raises herself up, weightless, jointless, porcelain doll on invisible stings

She leaps over the sofa she crashed on during the night, still covered by the quilt he threw over her because he is chivalrous like this and she was drunk and was not allowed to get into his bed even if she thought it was a good idea

The split she does tells him that it wasn’t a good idea, because women who do things like this with their bodies should not be shy or embarrassed or making him apology coffee in his kitchen while wearing his t-shirt for crashing on his sofa after getting drunk in his bar

~~he didn’t sleep with her why didn’t he sleep with her is he mad~~

 

_{Swan Lake}_

The third time Kenneth catches Marianne Fairfield perform, he feels out of place, because there are people in actual suits with ties around him, and they stare as he holds a bouquet of hand-painted blue roses – the things he goes through for this girl – and he realizes he doesn’t know shit about ballet and he doesn’t care

Because her sister tells him she plays – or preforms, whatever – a princess who is a bird and then there is her evil twin and then she is the first one but dying, and it’s all very complicated, and there is a lot of jumps and legs being held  ~~and men touching her but they had this talk already~~

But she makes the best dead bird he has ever seen, and she laughs, hard and loud, her forehead leaning into his chest, while her sister makes judging faces at them

He still doesn’t care: there is a fierce tiny ballerina in his arms who has the weirdest laugh and can punch a man in the face  ~~and that’s hot~~   ~~and he loves her~~

 

_{Lap Dance}_

The fourth time Mari dances for him

_I was a terrible klutz as a kid_  she says hips swaying gently fingers unbuttoning her shirt

_My mom used to call me a catastrophe-girl_ , her blouse white and proper slips off her shoulders one sleeve at a time and she throws it at him

_Ballet had to fix that, I guess_ , the button of her skirt pops - it slips down her narrow hips and falls on the floor where Marianne steps over it

_But I think it was a trick to get me to do it_ , her knees go on the sides of his hips as she straddles him, her hands skimming up his shirt to cup his face and she grinds against him

_You can touch if you want to,_  she kisses the corner of his mouth and leans back, twisting her arms behind her and taking of her bra

He will never understand how she can be so comfortable about her body ( _Bog, I’m a dancer, you don’t what to know how many times or how many people touched my crotch_ ) and yet

And yet

She covers her breasts, thin fingers fanning out, and lets out one shuddering sigh, when he raises his eyebrow in a silent question

_Yeah, I know, not much to look at_

She lets her hands fall, but turns softly pink in the face

Her breasts are the size of Champagne glasses, he tells her, because she is good at dancing, but he knows his alcohol, and this is the most coherent thing he is able to come up with

Her lips purse together in a concerned little  _o_  – and she snorts, and squeezes his face in the palms of her hands, and smooches their faces together

“I was serious,” he says

_I love you_ , she answers

_{Fuck it}_

He is just too tall to dance with her, or so he tells himself, and her, and everyone

Dawn makes yapping signs with her hands at him

In the end, they do dance, but it’s simple not-waltzing, and in the end he just picks her up and carries her around on his shoulder (because her feet hurt, and her legs are tired and her dad already stepped on the hem of her dress like three times, so much for a king of ballet)

She waves her hands around like a proud giant bird and he tries to keep his face straight

Her dad just doesn’t look up at them at all

It’s embarrassing, and stupid, and he is too old for this, not that she listens to his grumbling (unless it matters)

Bog marries an amazon fairy princess ballerina who one day walked into his bar and ruined his furniture

There is nothing in that sentence that bothers him.

 

**FIN**


End file.
